


The Colour of Victory

by TheAllKnowingOwl



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alive L (Death Note), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Colours, Dead L (Death Note), Ghosts, M/M, POV L (Death Note), Past Character Death, Post-Death Note, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Spoilers, Spoilers for 'L Change The WorLd', Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 06:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17259119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllKnowingOwl/pseuds/TheAllKnowingOwl
Summary: The world is so grey after Light-kun.





	The Colour of Victory

The world is so grey after Light-kun.

 

Logically, L knows that it is exactly the same as before he met the teenager, but his monochrome surroundings seem even colder than then. Light’s death has sucked not only the colour from the world, but all that seemed worth living for.

 

On reflection, it’s not entirely surprising that he wrote his own name in the notebook.

 

To be honest, there isn’t as much difference in L’s headquarters as he would like to believe- having chosen black and white as the predominant shades. But colour, in the same way as Light, slowly made its way into the dull offices.

 

Slowly.

 

Silently.

 

With insidious ease.

 

An umber scarf thrown over a chair back. An olive takeout coffee cup. The red and blue stained glass chess set.

 

They’re all grey now.

 

It had been hard to truly see colours in the assembly hall of To-Oh, but even in the dim light, L remembers seeing the glint of scarlet in Light’s eyes- the first colour, the catalyst that sparked a flood to the rest of the world, sweeping through in broad strokes, painting and staining until the entire world was really _alive_ for the first time in his entire life.

 

Then they’d gone outside, and the sun had turned Light’s hair to treacle and his his eyes to amber and L’s heart to flesh. The wind had rippled through the cherry trees, gnarled branches rubbing against skeletal twigs, waving happy petals in the breeze. The soft pink pigment had made it seem like intricate origami models were cheering them on.

 

How proud of him, L reflects bitterly. To believe that even nature was celebrating his meeting with _Kira_.

 

He never bothered with the world around him before, L reflects, but he can’t bear to even consider stepping outside anymore. Can’t bear to see the ashy petals clinging to the candle-wick husks of once-vibrant trees.

 

The detective doesn’t believe the Chief knows who his son’s soulmate is. He probably believes it was Miss Amane, if Light even let on that he could see colours.

 

He was secretive like that.

 

L didn’t need telling that Light was dead. He knew as soon as the colours leached away that his only equal was gone.

 

Now the world’s three greatest detectives devotes himself to his task. He has but 23 measly days to live, he may as well solve one last case before Near and Mello take his mantle.

 

It takes two days for him to notice it.

 

Looking away from the screen, Light’s seat is in the same position as when he vacated it for the final time. This isn’t the strange part.

 

The colours are still there.

 

Like a sodden watercolour, there is a coloured almost imprint of a human, the edges curling away, but very much tethered to the chair. When L drags a hand through the air, the edges curl and drift away, dissipating in the silent room. Then the president is calling, and L has to adjust his attention.

 

Next, colour catches on the glass chess pieces- ruby glinting in the wan lights of the monitors. The pieces he knows to be blue are untouched, save for the king: toppled, the sapphire head dangerously close to the edge.

 

This time L doesn’t ignore it.

 

He makes his way over- slowly, languorously, hunched in his usual manner. Picking up the piece, he rolls the smooth head between his thumb and finger, inspecting the room in his peripheral vision.

 

“Light-kun,” L says. “You can come out now.”

 

His nemesis flickers into view, lounging on the chair. Kira’s smirk may dance on his lips, but L catches the softness of the Light he knew during the time they hunted Yotsuba together.

 

“Hello L.”

 

This doesn’t change much. As suspected, L is the only one to see his first and last friend. Maki may frown in his vague direction at times, but she cannot see him. Tethered to the detective, Light is mostly silent, his amber eyes missing nothing. It’s strange, but even with his soulmate lit up in technicolour, the rest of the world remains as grey as if he were not there at all.

 

Other days are different.

 

“He’s planning to betray you,” Light says nonchalantly. “Knight to F6.”

 

L doesn’t reply verbally with the man in the room, but Light has always read him with ease. He picks the answer from twitch of L’s fingers as he moves the bloody glass.

 

_I know._

 

“What are you planning to do about it?” his soulmate asks, as if he doesn’t know the answer already. “I know what I’d do…”

 

Of course he does. They are cut from the same cloth, one and the same- quite literally.

 

The case progresses, his sole confidant at his side always. L may miss Watari, but he welcomes Light’s ghostly presence, for all that the nearness of his dead friend hurts him. The proximity of his only intellectual rival reminds him of a fantasy he used to have: that Light was not Kira at all and they became the world’s greatest crime-fighting duo together.

 

It’s like wearing ill-fitting shoes. They rub and wear at his aching feet until they’re bruised and blistered, then when the skin has toughened, they slip and cause pain in places anew.

 

As the case draws to a close, Light gets stronger. He’s brighter now, less insubstantial. Sometimes, he plays with the riotous curls of L’s hair. Mostly, he saves his energy for emergencies. Once, he steps in the path of a bullet that would have shattered L’s skull.

 

The detective does not ask why he does this.

 

This is something neither of them know for sure.

 

When all is said and done, they sit side by side. Light unfastens his watch from L’s wrist, and they watch the slow countdown to forty as the shattered face becomes whole again.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Light confesses quietly.

 

“How long?” L asks, although he doesn’t really need to.

 

“All my life,” his soulmate-nemesis-friend admits, and L takes his hand silently. The seconds hand continues its fateful path as the puzzle pieces slot into place.

 

Leaning against his shoulder, L allows himself one final weakness.

 

“Stay with me?”

 

“Forever,” Light replies, carding his free hand through L’s unruly hair.

 

The clock hits forty, and they depart from the mortal world together.

 


End file.
